A proposal
by Lily Crawley
Summary: Carlisle pops the question in a very unsual way. A one-shot seperated into two parts. / (Esme's point of view)
1. Chapter 1

Dear readers,

first of all: Thank you very much for clicking on this story. As you could read in the summary this one-shot, propably soon to be a two-shot (if you call that a one-shot with two chapters (?)), will give you a peak inside a moment of Carlisle's and Esme's early relationship. After a month of constantly over-reading this story, I am finally taking the step to publish it out here. As you might have guessed by now english is not my native language and I never felt comfortable enough to write in english - though I do love the way the words are connecting with each other in such a lovely, yet sharp and classy way. Obviously I borrowed the characters from Stephenie Meyer and I think that's all I'm going to say to you for now. (Otherwise I might ruin my chances of you reading further)

The one-shot will be rated T - because I don't think that some of the emotions and thoughts (and later actions) are entirely childproof, but please feel free to correct me, if I rated it wrong. I will upload the second part in a few days and hope to read a few comments until then.

I hope you enjoy reading! :)

AN: I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to give you some information ahead. In this first part Carlisle and Esme are going to start a conversation about Esme's current book: "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte. They will discuss a little bit of the content and for those of you who never read it, here is a really short summary:

Jane Eyre is about a young woman who becomes the governess of a little girl. Her new employer, who (kind of) adopted the little girl, is instantly fascinated by her. Jane falls in love with Mr. Rochester (the employer) and after a few difficulties they even decide to marry. But at their wedding day she discovers he already has a wife (who has gone mad and lives locked up in the house for no one to see) and leaves him. After a total breakdown she meets new people who help her back on her feet again. One of them is St. John Rivers, turning out to be her cousin. He asks for her hand in marriage later on, which Jane refuses, because she doesn't feel anything but sisterly love towards him and St. John's reasons to marry her don't please her understanding of marriage and love. Jane still longs for Mr. Rochester secretivly and after inheriting a lot of money from her uncle's death she decides to look for Rochester again. In her absence Mr. Rochester has suffered a terrible faith. His mad wife burned the house down and jumped to death and Rochester lost a hand and his eyesight. When she finds him, he is miserable and alone. Both declare their love for one another, marry and live a happily ever after.

 **A proposal**

It was a sunny afternoon in late autumn. Carlisle had returned from the hospital earlier than expected and we had decided to light a fire in the old fireplace in the living room as it got dark outside. He went out to get some wood, while I got a few blankets and candles from upstairs. Not that they were necessary, but Carlisle enjoyed candles very much and I loved the cozy atmosphere of woolen blankets on my skin. It reminded me of Christmas and feeling at home. I smiled as I thought of how Edward would tease me now again for my behavior. While Carlisle supported my every wish of making this house a home, Edward didn't see anything important in it. He would always go on about the fact that we would have to move every few years anyway. But today was different. I could fully give in to my need of feeling at home, because Edward had left this morning. He had been a bit grumpy the last few days, because squirrels and rabbits didn't satisfy his appetite and had announced yesterday that he had plans to travel to the Denali family, which Carlisle and him were befriended with. On the way there he hoped to find a few bears in the deeper woods and was convinced that more animals could be found up north. Although I didn't like the thought of him leaving it was somehow relieving that he would be gone for a week. His character was lovely and interesting, but he could annoy me sometimes. He always had to have the last word at everything and I could sense how he loved to rub his experience as a vampire in my face. Most of the time I just let him, because his ego enjoyed the power he had over me, but there were times I wanted to scream at him for telling Carlisle things that were going on in my head. Besides that Edward and I soon had developed a deep friendship. We could communicate on a different level than we could with Carlisle, in Edwards's case I assumed it was because I was born in his time and not a few hundred years before. Concerning me it was slightly different. Of course Edward already knew that. Ever since I met Carlisle I felt strange in his presence, like everything in my body fluttered to the tips of my fingers. I would talk differently with him than with everyone I ever talked to. Every other feeling I had towards him I couldn't quite explain. I longed for him being in the same room with me as I wanted him out of the house. My knees were always trembling around him and my thoughts weren't clear. But over all he filled me with a deep inner ease and I never wanted to let go of that ease ever again, for I had never before felt better.

The noise of the opening backdoor cut off my traveling thoughts and I turned my head to the entering blond-haired man. "I think it is going to snow soon." He said as he carried firewood to the fireplace. I immediately followed him and took of his coat, while he brushed a leaf of his chocolate brown pants. "You think?" My voice was a bit too high and I couldn't hide my joy over that information. I loved snow very much and it would make my festive mood overflowing. He looked at me suddenly and grinned a boyish grin, which I never saw before on his face, though it really suited him and made me grin back in an instant. "Yes, actually I think it will start within the next hour. The sky is very clouded, you can barely catch a glimpse of sunlight." As soon as the grin appeared on his face it was gone again and replaced by a soft smile, that I knew of every look he gave me. He looked around the room. "You lit candles." He noted delighted. "Thank you very much, Esme. They make everything so homely and a bit… holy." I smiled a bit at his choice of words, they were so very him. "It's fine. I like the atmosphere too." I responded and left the room to hang his coat in the cabinet in the hall. Then I made my way upstairs to my room to gather my current book. As I left again to join Carlisle in the living room I couldn't help but take a look at my reflection in the mirror. It had grown to be a habit of mine when Carlisle was around. I went through my big caramel curls with my fingers a bit and decided to put on a slightly reddish lipstick for a change. Usually I didn't use make up, because it kept reminding me of my human past, where my husband used to bring my face in contact with his fists every time he wasn't pleased with me. I owned a light skin-colored cream that time, which I used practically daily to cover up my blue, red and lilac bruises. He forbid lipstick, Mascara and every other product to paint my face, so I never had the chance to try as a human woman, although I wanted to someday. My sister used to own a palette of powdery pigments to put on her eyes that her mother-in-law gave her for her first wedding anniversary. The pigments were stored in a little green casket which was embroidered with golden and silver lines, that clicked when was opened. Inside it had colors from light peach to dark green. I used to include the colors into my rare drawn paintings, because they fascinated me highly, but I could never reach the effect they made when worn on my sisters eyes.

A few days ago while drawing I had thought about this very casket and Edward must have caught me in the act, because Carlisle later that day knocked at my door with a small box in his hands. Inside – to my surprise – I found a small collection of three different lipsticks, a black tube called 'Mascara' which turned out to help the eyelashes appear fuller and darker, a few red and peachy powders for the cheeks and last but not least a gorgeous dark-blue casket with an engraved "E", which contained pigments similar to those my sister owned years before. I was thrilled with joy, but didn't touch the new things until just now. Partly because I somehow felt uncomfortable and had no idea how to use all the products, partly because the memories that returned to me with the thoughtful gift were just too painful. Today I felt different. I didn't know whether it was to show Carlisle my appreciation of his present or to look a bit better for him, but I longed to try something new and the slightly reddish lipstick-color fitted perfectly to my festive and light mood. Without another glance I grabbed my book again and flew down the stairs in a very non-human pace. Carlisle had made himself comfortable in the big armchair next to the now crackling fire and held the newspaper in his snow-white palms. He had crossed one leg over the other while he turned the pages noiselessly. I sat down on the sofa that stood in the opposite direction and opened my book. We spent about half an hour with quiet reading, when he leaned forward in his chair to put the newspaper on a table standing nearby. During his movement the small golden cross slipped out of his beige sweater and hung from his neck. Instinctively I cleared my throat, but he didn't seem to notice the cross out of place. Instead he looked at me questioningly and started to talk after I didn't make a noise. "What are you currently reading?" Irritated by his hoarse tone I didn't get what he was talking about until he grinned a bit and pointed to the book in my lap. It was turned to the back and you couldn't see the cover. "Ehm.. 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte." I responded. "Ah! Jane Eyre. A very interesting story." His eyes glowed and he seemed talkative. "Yes, you read it?" I was overly interested in his opinion on one of my all-time favorite books. "Quite a few times, actually. The way of using words and the story told were always a little fascinating to me – I still cannot say whether I discovered the deeper meaning in this book, but I must confess I did like to read about Jane's development. Somehow I think I can relate to her character." With that he touched the golden cross that still hung from his neck and closed his fingers around it absentminded. I knew what he was referring to in an instant. A little while ago he had opened up to me about his life as a human. While he was a very spiritual man and carried his faith in God with him for everyone to see, he shut his own past away somewhere for just himself. Grown up half-orphaned and being tortured by the one parent left I could easily see parallels between him and Jane, he must have felt a wave of torture and relieve both at the same time when he first finished the book. Of course the deep faith Jane had in God and her plain lifestyle and material needs had to be appealing to Carlisle. Silently I wondered whether a Jane Eyre was a perfect fit for him, but I shook that thought off to not get too sad.

Sensing that I had drifted off to my own thoughts again Carlisle made another move to start a conversation. Usually he would take my silence negatively and leave me alone, but today it was different. Although I wasn't scared of him his unnatural behavior confused me quite a lot and I didn't know how to react. He asked me about the chapter I was reading. Being confused I just started to tell him about the chapter plot. "St John is taking Jane for a walk and they talk for a while until he… proposes to her." Carlisle's brows went up a little, but returned very soon to the place they were before. It felt weird to talk about a man proposing to a woman in front of him, although it was one of the most natural things to happen to two people of a different gender sooner or later. Without giving the feeling time to spread itself through my body I hastily continued, hoping Carlisle hadn't noticed. "They have a fight because of the reason he proposed to her and part to each have a few moments alone. St John wanted to marry her because he needed a companion in India and in front of God, because he needed an equal to please Him." My voice went a bit sharp at my last sentence. I never really understood how a man as devoted to his religion and the people around him could see marriage in such a pragmatic kind of way. "That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Carlisle said. He looked serious as I stared at him a bit surprised. "No actually not. St John does not seem as if he understood the true meaning of marriage." "What else is the true meaning of marriage than the union of a man and a woman in front of God – and besides what better value could this union have than behaving after His will and devoting both their lives to those who need them?" Infuriated by his bold and mindless statement I sat up straight. I couldn't believe he was saying something like this. "Would you argue that Jane's point of view is wrong then?" I nearly fired back. "Not entirely of course. But I do think that she still depends way too much on her former almost-husband Rochester. She claims her faith to God is most important to her, but jumps every time Rochester's name is mentioned by her own mind. She is betraying herself a bit, because she in the end listens to her own needs and crawls back to him." His voice was so clear, yet so emotionless I was silent and shocked for a few seconds. He really saw marriage the same way St John did. "She doesn't crawl back to him." I stated. "She looks out for him, to see if he's well. When she meets him again – him blind and with only one of his hands left, by the way, she agrees to marry him because she is overwhelmed with love for this man!" He looked annoyed now. "Really? Don't you think she finally marries him, because they are now equal? Because his tragic faith got him to be the man she always wanted? Because she can be his savior and not the other way around? She mentions it herself. She feels better about the man he has become and therefore marries Rochester." "That's not true!" I was really enraged. Never before had I spoken to Carlisle in that way, never before had he raised his voice. It was terrible and slightly wonderful to fight with him and I wouldn't dare to let him win. "She talks a hundred times more of the deep love she feels for him, the affection and the appreciation to his character. It is nothing like that with St John. He is her cousin for God's sake! Of course she cares for him a lot, but they don't share a longing for each other! Neither him nor her." His expression grew a bit darker than before and he ran his right hand through his blond locks. "So marriage is about physical love then?" Now I stood up and almost stomped my foot to the ground. He twisted the words in my mouth just as he wanted them to be. Although I was highly ashamed of the current topic, I wouldn't back down. So I said what I thought right at this moment. "Not entirely. But in my opinion physical love and equal love between two people is the only reason for marriage. I dare say, that if Jane and St John were bound together by the same sort of connection that binds Jane and Mr. Rochester, they would have been way more productive as a couple for the people they would have been helping on their way and even in the eyes of God."

He looked up to me and I could see his features soften. Why, I didn't know. Our previous conversation showed we had a huge disagreement in a very elementary matter. I was suddenly sad and sank back on the sofa, while he still looked at me with dark eyes. He hadn't hunted for at least a week and he probably wouldn't while I was with him. I couldn't keep my eyes on him anymore and instead fixated the golden cross still hanging from his neck. It was small and simple, though suited him perfectly. His gaze flickered lightly over my face and seemed to get to a hold on my lipstick-red lips. A wave of joy fluttered through me, but was soon again replaced by the sadness I felt before. How very much I longed for this man and how very clear he made just moments ago, that longing for someone physically was not in his interest nearly ripped me apart. I dreamed daydreams about him touching my hands or cupping my cheek with his palm or sharing a soft kiss with me. Realizing that some of them could never happen was horrible. I loved him, I was sure of it and I thought he loved me too. He loved everything and everyone and I couldn't imagine a person with a bigger heart. But even if we would marry I could never be loved by him entirely different - let alone more than any of his patients or Edward. It just seemed impossible to me to be in a relationship where we shared a deep friendship, but no love. I wanted so much more.

So much for part one. I really hope you liked it! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Dear readers,

I am so sorry, that it took me so long to get the second part finished. Hopefully you will enjoy it anyway.

Also many thanks for the lovely review and Favorite-entry (do you call it that way?)! :) I was so happy.

* * *

His voice ripped me out of my thoughts once again, but this time I wasn't excited to hear it or eager to talk to him. Out of politeness I lifted my head and concentrated on his lovely nose. "I always wondered how a young lady like Jane could fall in love with a grumpy man twice her age." He chuckled a bit, but a shadowy look slipped over his face and I couldn't help but wonder what it meant. I bit my lip as I thought about whether I should talk to him again. After all, I wasn't mad at him. "Well, she just loves him. I think it must be as easy as this." I said thoughtfully and I meant it. His eyes searched my face and I saw the shadowy look again – this time for a little longer. Nearly ten minutes later he answered. "Indeed…" His voice was darker and slightly hoarse. His Adam's apple moved slowly up and down again as he breathed. I was fascinated with the strong line of his jaw for a moment and the little traces of fine blond hair on his neck and chin. Suddenly his lips opened a bit. "When I was a little younger I often thought about marriage. I still do, I assume. My father taught me about the holiness of marriage and when I was a little boy I used to attend a few weddings secretively, hide behind the curtains in church and watch the ceremonies go by. I could feel God's presence then. I understood that to be whole in front of God a man and a woman had to be a union. I never stopped dreaming about the one person coming into my life and dedicating her whole being to God, just as I did." With that he looked out of the window. It had begun to snow, just like he had predicted. The treetops glistened white and sparkled a bit. I didn't know what to think about his words. My thirst to hear more stories from his past life was as insatiable as always and I didn't even dare to shift in my seat, hoping he would continue again. But there was a part of me that didn't want to hear the end of the story. I felt terrible discovering the part of him that wanted marriage – but not love. He wanted God's love and he had it – I was sure of it. But I could never fulfill the way he expected his wife to be. I was not even sure if God existed at all – how could I ever share his kind of faith? How could I ever be worthy to be his wife?

"I think you have a point though." He looked at me again and my brows went up in confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked in a thin voice. Carlisle leant back in his seat and twirled the cross between his fingers again as if in deep thought. He looked so awkwardly relaxed now. Although his back was held up straight in the huge armchair he sat in, he actually made contact with the fabric. While his right hand touched the golden cross, his left hand lay casually on the armrest and his fingers tapped at it every once in a while. "With that kind of love you mentioned earlier." My breathing stopped for a few seconds. "Where do you see a point?" I hated the way my voice trembled as I spoke to him. He turned his head and looked me in the directly in the eyes. "Over the years working as a doctor in different places, countries and continents I met many different married couples. And sometimes some of those would have a… sort of timeless connection. It would go beyond deep appreciation or clean care for one another. Both their heartbeats would run faster when they saw each other. I can't explain or describe it truly, but it was clear that they always… longed for the others presence." I was surprised at him using my words from earlier, but he continued before I could say something. "So I do have to change my mind, I guess. Physical love mixed with trust seems like a possibility to explain this kind of… connection." His rationality was like a kick in the stomach, even though he just told me I had been right. I felt suddenly sick.

"I was wondering…" he continued "if, as an example, I asked you for your hand in marriage…" I could no longer take it. His choice of words should have had an indescribably positive effect on me, but I felt numb. The last hour had changed a lot of things and I did most certainly not want to be an example in one of his rational considerations about marriage and a wife. To me, Carlisle was never anything less than perfect. I had felt deep affection for his character since our first moments together and longed for his attention and appreciation towards me in ways I never experienced before. I was fascinated by the way he gave love to everyone around him so unconditionally and natural, his wisdom and thirst for knowledge filled me with astonishment. How surprised I had been, when he first told me about his secret passion for British classics. Now I saw a new side to his person. He seemed totally clueless concerning things as irrational as love between a man and a woman. Somehow it felt like we would start at the same point again. I never really knew that kind of love either and felt extremely damaged because of my first marriage. I had imagined love so differently.

I stood up and cut him off. My fingers were clenched into fists immediately as I did something I had never done before. Although my body felt weak and my voice trembled at the first sentence, I spoke clear and loud. "I… I am not faithful, Carlisle. At least not the way you'd like your wife to be." His eyes grew wide and his lips were slightly parted. He looked stunned and dumbfounded, which I thought was lovely on him, but I didn't give him the time to speak again. I had too much to say and I knew I would never get it over with, if I didn't do it right then. "I do not want to dedicate my life to god. I do not know if God exists! I want love, pure love and trust and a person I can be myself with. I want to laugh and be free and see the world – and yes, I want to help other people, but under the current circumstances I won't be able to be around them for a long time. I want to be… adored by someone and feel appreciated, not like a constant failure. I want to be held in someone's arms and kissed softly every once in a while. I want to be told that I'm pretty and lovable… I will dedicate my life to my loved ones. But… I am not and cannot be what you want and… deserve." I couldn't look at him anymore and turned my head to the crackling fireplace. "I opened up to you about what marriage means to me and our expectations seem so different, but I cannot change my mind on that this time." I was surprised I was still not sobbing. Instead I felt powerful and proud for standing up for myself to a man much more experienced and powerful than I could ever be. There was a deep pain though, that this man was Carlisle and that I was letting go of a dream I had had since I was sixteen. I was pushing him away – but I knew that I had to. My new found strength left me as sudden as it had build up and I closed my eyes to keep it a little longer. Heavily I pressed out the last words left in my mind.

"So please don't take me as an example for your considerations or… give it a serious thought. Given my feelings and our varying wishes on marriage, it could just never happen." With this I opened my eyes again and slowly started walking out of the room. I didn't have to look back at him to know that he was frozen in his seat. In all the time I had talked, he never tried to interrupt me and I was grateful for his patient and respectful nature once again. My whole body was hurting and I just wanted to get some space for myself and feel bad about what I had just let go. I didn't know if I would ever feel fine again or anything near that, but I knew I had done the right thing. By the time I had reached the door, my plans were crossed, though. Strong hands grabbed my waist and spun me around. My stomach was suddenly pressed against the beige sweater fabric. Seconds later Carlisle's nose pressed softly against mine and I could hear him intake a deep breath. I had no time to think about the situation or current position we were in, all I did was feeling his arms around me and his lips just inches away from my own. It felt natural and easy, yet overwhelmingly tense. Finally his lips locked with mine and he kissed me passionately, something I had never thought of him. He seemed furious and I dug my hands in his hair. His intoxicating scent was all around me and I couldn't stop breathing him in, until I had no air left in my lungs. When we parted after a few moments we both breathed heavily. I found myself looking at his chest and let my eyes slowly drift up his neck to his face. His eyes were completely black as he was staring down at me, but he hadn't loosened his hold on my back and waist. My fingers touched his jaw absentmindedly, the feel of his skin was sensational and I did not even realize he made a move to speak until I heard his voice. He spoke in the same hoarse tone as earlier, only this time I could think of why it was that way.

"I feel different about a lot of things now, Esme." He stopped in his tracks as if in search for the right words. "I never thought I could be so drawn to someone else and so desperately longing for someone's presence. Everything is just different around you…" Clearly embarrassed he looked to the side and his grip on me suddenly loosened. As if awakening out of a trance his eyes flickered fast over my face. "I am sorry, if I harmed you in any way. And I hope you don't feel my openness bold." His Adams apple moved delicately as he took a firm step away from me, leaving me on my own again. I couldn't help but smile lightly and tried to speak calm, which failed miserably, when the words finally tumbled out of my mouth. "It's fine." I had barely whispered, but his eyes lit up with warmth. "In fact I think you had just the right timing." I added and was surprised by my own sudden boldness towards him. Before I could think I stepped forward and planted a small kiss on his cheek. This time I could feel his new boyish grin form on his face and was proud of it as an outcome of my actions. It felt so natural to be near him, even if we were a few centimeters apart. "Shall we revert to our reading then?" He asked with that same grin plastered all over his marvelous cheeks. "I would love that." I grinned back at him.

We seated ourselves just as before. Carlisle sat in the huge armchair and I had taken my place on the sofa again, directly in front of him. Amusingly, as a man of his word, Carlisle had indeed returned to the newspaper and preceded reading as if nothing had happened between us. But him looking up and over the paper pages every once in a while made the reading a teasing act. Reaching the last page of my book I suppressed the urge to sigh with relief. I hadn't quite been able to not look too amused every time he glanced in my direction, which had resulted in hastening through "Jane Eyre" in an impressive speed. "I'm almost finished." I declared to him joyfully and was ready to skip the last page, when I felt something much heavier than paper beneath my grip. After curiously turning the page, a small silvery thing fell into my lap and my eyes followed it hastily. There was a ring glittering up at me, small and elegant, yet the most beautiful I had ever seen. I took a few silent breaths before I looked up to meet Carlisles gaze, who I knew had rose from his seat and bent one knee to the ground right in front of me. I couldn't speak, searched for different explanations in my mind for what just happened. Overflowing with joy and hope, but petrified in shock I just stared at him for a long time.

Before he began to speak, I could hear him gulp uneasily. "I was very nervous about your answer to my question the last few months, but after your energetic speech, I must admit I am mortified." He chuckled slightly and I thought him adorable and felt terrible shame at the same time. Suddenly his expression grew serious, as he continued to talk. "Esme, I have waited very long to tell you this. A bit more than a decade, to be honest, but I wanted to since our first faithful meeting." He paused and my ears began to feel numb, while I was still staring at him like a complete fool, awaiting his soothing voice to rise up again. "I love you…" The warmth in his tone was more present than ever. While his eyes fixated mine and burned deep holes into my irises, Carlisle's words were quieting down and his gaze grew pleading. "Will you marry me?"

Only one word pulsated through my head and body, but all I was able to do was nodding lightly and declaring my love for him with quiet whispers over and over again. In a world of arranged marriages and real love just a fairytale, his proposal was so utterly romantic, so unique. Just like him. I barely noticed his hand gallantly slipping the ring onto my finger and kissing my hand in a gentlemanly fashion afterwards. Just moments later I was snaking my arms up his back to hug his shoulders and bury my head in his sweater amazingly happy. We didn't need any more words, just us. I smiled as I felt his nose tickling my hair.


End file.
